


and we'll face our futures another day

by caelitea



Category: Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen, Sibling Bonding, Twin AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-03
Updated: 2015-04-03
Packaged: 2018-03-17 05:03:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3516338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caelitea/pseuds/caelitea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Robin and Reflet are twins, and they pull their longest prank in order to have a hand in choosing their own futures. (Also, they battle each other with some interesting results.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	and we'll face our futures another day

**Author's Note:**

  * For [echoelbo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/echoelbo/gifts).



> lmao I wrote this months ago and wanted to post it here but then never got around to it. for echoelbo, since we discussed this AU together a while back and i ended up writing it! this was sort of supposed to be a series but uh. that may or may not happen because my motivation and willpower is so questionable. so for now it's a one shot. :'D
> 
> Robin as the name for the female MU and Reflet as the name of the male MU!

The twins are young when they first start their lessons, partly because it is required that all scions of noble birth start their education early—which is thus doubly true of those born to the royal family—but also because they have an insatiable natural curiosity for everything around them. As such, the prince and princess of Plegia both start their schooling a tad bit early—at five years of age, instead of the customary six—in order to keep them out of further mischief, as they have a remarkable talent for increasingly elaborate pranks that the servants, and even the king and queen, are often victim to.

For children who are generally eager to be up and about to find new ways to trick the castle staff, they are quite docile as students. They study a variety of general subjects together every day save the weekends—math, literature, history, and the like—and they show a great thirst for knowledge. There is naturally some friendly sibling rivalry, but they are well behaved and eager overall, and their teachers are proud to have such devoted students. After about two years of book-schooling, they are deemed ready for specialized classes and are shuffled off to additional separate lessons twice a week—Reflet, being male, is taken for physical combat training, while Robin, being female, is put under the tutelage of mages. The twins are supremely disdainful at this so-called tradition and are aware that their strengths are opposite of what they’re being put into, but they decide not to raise any complaint for now because they are determined to persevere through their weaknesses.

While their general subjects stay peaceful, their specialized classes become…chaotic. The twins are often yelled at during their respective combat/magic classes, and though they are strong enough to hide their emotions, they grow more and more sullen during practice until they are finally allowed to return to their room, where one (or both) of them burst out crying once the door closes behind them and shuts them out to the world. Through their tears they rant to each other about how awful their lessons were, and how much they hate them. Reflet is usually harried for not being aggressive enough; he finds no pleasure in the heft of a sword or the weight of a punch, no satisfaction in the idea of breaking someone’s nose or cracking their ribs. Robin is generally berated for her lack of focus and concentration; spellwork is an intricate process that requires a sense of tranquility in order to adjust the spell—and Robin, who is prone to act on instinct and moves reflexively, tends to flare out a lot of power instead of controlling it. Reflet comes back sore and bruised, lip protruding stubbornly, and Robin comes back with scorched clothes or singed fingers or stray cuts (depending on what element she’s been practicing) and a scowl. The both of them bear heavily bruised egos and diminishing self-confidence. The combat instructor is frustrated with the young boy’s lack of progress, and the sorceress in charge of lessons is frustrated with the young girl’s tendency to destroy things around her.

After a while, the twins propose to their teachers that they switch and be put in each other’s lessons. They are shot down, their request being seen as both a lack of perseverance and an act of arrogance, that they may dictate their own education as they wish simply because they aren’t performing well. The twins find this unfair; it’s been a year, and clearly their strengths lay elsewhere, but any further attempts of persuasion are also brushed off with more irritation.

In the end, the twins give up. This is the first sign that should arouse suspicion, but it doesn’t because their teachers think too little of the young siblings despite the fact that they have proven themselves clever through their previous pranks. They are eight years old now but still children, and therefore have not yet grown into their responsibilities and manners. They will learn in time, their instructors say, and they are delighted to learn in the next passing weeks that their students are indeed improving.

It’s the second sign that should arouse suspicion, but again, it doesn’t because it is attributed to dormant ability finally manifesting and determination making it possible. 

The ruse lasts for quite a long while, actually; it is six years before the truth comes out into the open. The both of them have long since accepted the moment when it finally happens and so are rather unperturbed at the revelation, but the incident does cause quite a lasting uproar throughout the Plegian court.

It happens very predictably, during one of Reflet’s practices, where he is sparring with other students using swords. He’s become somewhat of a legend throughout the years, growing from a meek boy to a skilled warrior, while his sister has garnered reputation of the same degree as a mage. His sparring partner is a current general from the army; Reflet’s instructor had thought it time for the young man to test his skills against someone else strong besides the instructor himself, and someone with fresher battle experience. In the middle of their bout, as Reflet lunges forward and then twists to avoid the general’s attack, the tip of the general’s sword meets with the cloth of Reflet’s shirt and slices it clean through, narrowly avoiding leaving a slash that would have become a thin scar in its wake.

It takes a moment for the fact to sink in, but as Reflet turns again, his split shirt rustling with his movement, it becomes obvious that Reflet is not who everyone assumed he was.

The general notices first, being the closest in proximity, standing completely still and nonplussed. The instructor notices second, his face turning purple when he processes what he is seeing, and then the rest of the soldiers sparring on the field begin turning to see what on earth is going on.

“Well, gig’s up,” Robin says casually, stabbing her sword into the ground and attempting to find a way to salvage her shirt in order hide the curve of her breasts. The general had even cut through the bindings she used to flatten her chest; it had really been quite the narrow miss. Everything remains dead silent until Robin waves for a servant and asks them to fetch the real Reflet. Her brother comes to the training grounds a few moments later with a grin and drapes his cloak over her shoulders so that she can cover up. His magic instructor follows shortly after, still believing him to be his sister, berating her for leaving lessons early despite being urgently summoned by her sibling—until she looks up and begins digesting the situation as well.

The silence is deafening as their instructors shake with bottled fury and the soldiers gape in pure confusion; the twins put their fingers into their ears when their instructors both explode simultaneously. They swear that the ground shakes with the booming of the combat master and the shrilling of the sorceress; the both of them also learn some colorful new words to add to their vocabulary.

“Well, you never would have agreed to it,” Robin says when the storm has blown over momentarily, removing her hands from her ears and wincing as the slight ringing in her head, “You always insisted that we were simply being contrary children. We gave your lessons a year, didn’t we?”

“You— _how long_ —of all—” their combat instructor splutters, realizing that the twins have duped everyone for quite some time. By keeping their hair the same lengths, Robin binding her developing breasts for practice and faking voice cracks, and Reflet not speaking much during spellcasting and pitching his voice higher when needed, they avoided arousing any heavy suspicion that they could not make excuses for when their disguises slipped for any reason. And because Robin was gaining muscle and Reflet was not doing anything in particular to build his, their body builds were kept roughly similar—though Reflet wore mages’ cloaks for practice, which hid any figure anyway.

“Robin and I have been very aware of our strengths and weaknesses as children,” Reflet continues with a pleasant smile, “And we would not have liked being forced into fields that we would have constantly done poorly in.”

“This isn’t—about what you _prefer!_ ” their magic instructor all but screams, her face mottled with fury, and Robin raises her eyebrows.

“Really, now? We did not _choose_ to be in service to the King, as most of those employed by him did, we were _born_ into the service of the King. Therefore, shouldn’t we have at played to our strengths and excelled in a field in order to be useful to the kingdom? What use or respect is there for a prince and a princess who are abysmal in the crafts they learned for years? Or is this about feeling superior?” Robin says, a hard edge to her voice.

“Certainly, we are grateful to you,” Reflet supplements, “For the both of you are excellent teachers and are masters of your field. We’ve learned so much and thrived under your tutelage. But this also concerned our development, and so we decided to switch positions to become masters of fields that we had a chance in. If it makes you feel better, we are at least _somewhat_ adequate in each other’s fields, if below proficient.”

Their instructors simply stare at them, quieted by their words, but still angry at the deception.

“Would a demonstration help?” Robin says with a sigh, her voice still tight, “If you are still so insistent that we were taught the wrong things? I’ve always wanted a chance to fight my dear brother.”

Her grin is a little wild when she turns to face her sibling, but Reflet’s own composed smile doesn’t hide the mischievous glittering of his eyes.

Their instructors exchange glances and sigh, finally nodding after a silent conversation with their eyes. Within moments the training field is cleared at the combat master’s booming order that rings in the air; those who had been practicing take to the sidelines instead of leaving the grounds alltogether, their faces a mixture of still-present confusion and immense curiosity.

The twins share matching grins as they jog towards the center of the field and position themselves so that they are standing a good distance away from each other. Robin buttons her brother’s cloak to salvage her modesty and loops the belt that her sword had previously hung on to minimize the fluttering of the garment, having forgone the sword itself because it gave her an advantage while Reflet had nothing to parry with to test her swordsmanship, and naturally she didn’t want to kill him. She then adjusts the worn leather gloves on her hands, flexing her fingers and making sure that they are tight and adjust to her movement well. Meanwhile, Reflet debates changing his tome for a less potent one, but then decides to keep what he has when he meets his sister’s eyes. Like her, he has wondered what it would be like if they clashed—but there had never been a reason before to do such a thing, considering their skills in such opposite areas. Though this was really meant to showcase their abilities and what they had learned over the years, for the siblings it was also an experiment to discover what would happen should they go up against each other—and how to fight someone who had opposite weaknesses and strengths as yours.

They don’t wait for a signal from their instructors to start their duel.

“Ready?” Robin calls with a wicked, wicked grin, falling into an offensive stance, and Reflet grins back.

“Yeah,” he says, and within seconds his tome is open and the spell is weaving itself in a bubble around him as Robin sprints forward.

She flips backwards just before she manages to fully close the distance between them, missing the brunt of a thunder spell that scorches the ground as she recovers and continues her advance. Reflet has another spell already in the works, but Robin is too close now and Reflet barely has time to think about how damn _fast_ she’s become since their hide-and-seek-tag days; she aims a punch at his stomach but he leaps back, tripping over his sister’s leg when she sinks low to the ground in attempt to do just that.

Reflet tumbles to the side unfazed with an undisturbed spell in the works, as he is used to tussling with his sister as a child. The orange light is scripting itself around him in the ancient language and when Robin aims another punch, he holds out his hand as if to block her and the air around them crackles; his sister hisses at the feeling of coming into contact with raw electricity—as she had really punched the magic surrounding him rather than connected with his palm—and jumps back, shaking her right hand in attempt to dispel tingly feeling that it leaves behind.

She grins and Reflet matches her expression, the pages of his tome still flipping from an unknown wind.

“Not bad,” she says, intrigued that the spellweaving provides a unique defense for the actual casting.

“You too,” he replies, impressed that he could feel his tightly-woven shell weakening under her force.

He’s ready for her when she lunges forward again, flinging out a leg as she had done before, but she laughs as she avoids it and jumps over him instead. He rolls to avoid a blow and her fist collides with the ground, but she’s not even fazed from the impact; when she goes in for another hit while he’s defenseless on the ground, he holds up his arm to block her and hisses at the pain when her fist connects.

“By Grima,” he laughs as the orange script begins weaving around them, “Are you trying to break my bones?”

“Well, haven’t you been trying to electrocute me?” she counters with a laugh of her own, and he grips the collar of her cloak as he tilts and throws her to the side.

She’s up again in a flash and is already trying to hit him; he also has another spell in the works. It becomes a dance of dodging for a while; Robin is fast, but Reflet is quick to put his observations to use and becomes better at avoiding her blows. He laughs at the frustration that begins to show on her face as they step around each other, her punches just narrowly missing him, but she grins because the challenge is fun to her. But he can’t afford to wear out her using a purely defensive strategy—his sister’s stamina is much greater than his.

He drops to the ground and attempts to trip her again; the suddenness of the change in their routine catches her off guard and she breaks her fall with a roll. He’s gained some distance by the time she looks up, and she notices the short jagged bolts of lightning that are in a circle around him. She laughs, dropping down into a defensive stance.

“And I gave up my sword because you didn’t have anything to parry with,” she teases, and Reflet grins in return, selecting one of the bolts from his array, and the rest fall into place.

“Strategic flaw?” he says innocently, and launches it at her.

She twirls to avoid it, but her brother’s aim is quite accurate; she can feel the heat of it on her skin as it whizzes past her face. Her heart beats a little faster.

“Whoa there, Prince Reflet!” she calls as she flips and bends backwards to avoid the other ones that he now flicks towards her with greater speed, “You wouldn’t happen to _actually_ be trying to kill me, are you?”

“Please,” he laughs, “I aimed carefully, and I have full confidence in your dodging!”

He hadn’t _really_ been aiming at her face, just close in order to keep her on her toes because it was easy for her to keep _him_ alert with close combat, but he had known it wouldn’t have hit anyway—not that he wanted it to, by the gods. Despite joking about killing each other, as some noble siblings plotted to do for power, they were very aware that they couldn’t live without each other. It would be losing their other half.

 Robin curses when she doesn’t move fast enough to avoid the next bolt and holds up her arm in order to take a hit. She yelps at the pain from the shock of electricity, and then shakes her arm when it goes numb—though Reflet doesn’t let her rest as she continues dodging what bolts he has left. She grits her teeth when the lack of feeling in her arm turns to paresthesia, but balls her hand into a fist and fights against the discomfort as she rushes forward.

He feints, trying to confuse her, but she pivots behind him and wraps her arms around his waist, hoisting him up, and then lets herself fall backwards.

“Clench your teeth!” she says as she essentially suplexes him, though she shifts to the side so that he lands more on his side rather than doing damage to his head.

They’re a tangle of limbs when they both fall, and it takes a moment for Reflet to recover from being a bit stunned. He reaches out to drag Robin back down when she moves to get up, and trips her again to buy him some time as he puts more distance between them so that he can cast something more complicated.

But she’s up again in a flash, and dodges her as best he can as he weaves his shell tighter and tighter. Robin grins because she can feel how powerful he’s making his spell, raising an eyebrow at the fact that their hair is beginning to stand up in response to the electricity sparking off of his bubble.

She steps back a few paces, adjusting her gloves again as she eyes her brother weaving his magic together. She takes a few deep breaths then begins running towards him. Robin knows that it’s foolish, what she’s trying to do, but a battle cry is escaping from her throat anyway and the battle has been exhilarating so far, and she really, _really_ wants to test both of their limits.

She runs forward, leaping to shorten the distance as she nears the weave of orange script, and drives her fist into the shell.

The pain is—awful, actually, and nearly blinding from both the sensation and the light that is leaking from the impact. She hisses as the heat from the contact eats away at her glove; Reflet grits his teeth as he tries to hold his shell together, and the grinding and crackling sounds that is emanating from their struggle is quite concerning to their audience.

But Robin narrows her eyes and grits her teeth as well, and with another cry, digs her fist in even deeper—and then a shattering sound rings in the air as she falls forward and collides with Reflet, the both of them collapsing into a heap on the ground. The magic diffuses with buzzing and snapping sounds and the script fades, and the twins moan at the impact of colliding with each other.

“Great _Grima_ ,” Reflet laughs, once he is over the pain, “Did you just _punch through_ my magic? You barbarian!”

“To be fair, I didn’t think it could be done,” Robin mumbles, “I just thought if I could weaken it, it would lessen the impact of your spell—and _by the gods_ does it _hurt_. I regret it already.”

Reflet is laughing and he holds up her right hand, examining her leather glove that has been burned through at the knuckles and her scorched skin beneath it that is beginning to bleed.

“I think you’ll be okay, but you better get this seen, don’t want it to leave a mark,” he says, and his sister mumbles something about being too tired to get up.

Someone clears their throat, and the twins see the combat master walking forward.

“I’ll take the Princess to the infirmary,” he says, oddly polite, “Though I suggest that you come along as well, Prince Reflet. I suspect your arm, at least, will be starting to bruise and you will want a balm for that.”

Reflet grins and sits up, wincing at the soreness already beginning to take root in his joints, gesturing for the older man to take his sister.

 “Oh, this is humiliating,” Robin laughs as the combat master lifts her up and carries like her a baby, or a bride. “I don’t believe I’ve been carried like this since I was an infant.”

The sorceress comes forward to help prop Reflet up as he stands shakily, and he thanks her for the support as he leans against her.

“That was a remarkable display of magic,” she replies without looking at him, and Reflet smiles.

The combat master shouts over his shoulder that supervised practice is over before the group makes their way off the field and towards the royal infirmary.

As they do, a spattering of applause starts from the soldiers that had been observing, and then grows to a roaring cheer that can still be heard when the door closes behind them.

.

In the infirmary, the clerics and priests cluck their tongues at their charges and Robin and Reflet laugh. They’re regulars here, from their tussles as children, their pre-identity switch days, and early training days; by this point, they know all the staff members—minus new recruits who they get to know eventually—and where all the general supplies like bandages and antiseptic are so that they may care for minor injuries themselves.

The medics all bustle into action and the royal scions settle comfortably into the beds as they await treatment. Their instructors hover by awkwardly, not quite willing to leave but unsure if they should stay either.

One of the clerics, Edna, muffles a laugh as she waves towards the chairs nearby.

“Master Kemp, Mistress Etel, would you care for a seat?” she says in a composed voice, as she has never seen the teachers act in such a manner before. They nod stiffly and move out of the way as the medics get to work.

One of them pulls the curtain around so that Robin can peel off her brother’s (now dirty) cloak and change into a thin shift so that the clerics have easier access to her wounds. They take care of her knuckles first, cleaning and applying cream over it and bandaging them, before moving onto the rest of her scrapes and burns.

The cleric tending to Reflet clucks her tongue again when she sees the magnificent bruise that is starting to spread over his arm, though she looks amused. She spreads a balm over it and gives him a small jar for later usage, as it is likely more will start to surface later.

When Robin’s curtain is pushed back, the siblings stare at each other, taking in each other’s wounds, and laugh. They stack their fists on top of each other and grin.

“Not bad,” Robin says, “I’d say we’re pretty evenly matched. You did well despite being at a disadvantage with close combat. Maybe we should get you a sword anyway though, just in case. For blocking if not attacking.”

“Swords are a pain to carry though,” Reflet semi-whines, “And I’d say going up against mages shouldn't be a problem for you, considering how _fast_ you can get in close, even when a spell’s being cast. I was at a disadvantage, but you…not so much.”

“Nonsense,” his sister argues, gesturing to her bandages, “I just managed to exploit your weaknesses more frequently this time. If you had more time to cast, I probably wouldn't be able to get near enough to you to attack in the first place. I’d say with strategic positioning you’d be devastating—besides, in actual battle you wouldn’t be positioned all the way in the front, anyway.”

“That’s true, but…” Reflet sits back a little, thinking. He wants to say that following the same logic, Robin might not be able to get to the mages before their spells hit, but at the same time, there is no reason for her to be targeting the mages, either. There are other mages, and archers, and flying units if they can avoid hits. Robin notices his expression and follows his line of thinking, and eventually they fall into a discussion about war tactics. They forget everyone else in the room; the medics are used to the twins going off into their own little world and go about their business—though perhaps some of them keep their ears perked—but the instructors listen with widening eyes until they’ve heard enough.

Kemp clears his throat and the twins look at him, startled. He and Etel rise to return to their stations, but they both hold out their hands, which the twins shake confusedly.

“We must be getting back,” Etel says, her voice a little strange, “But I believe I speak for the both of us when I say I—we—are sorry that we doubted you.”

“And we would be glad and honored if you continued attending practice,” Kemp adds.

Robin grins up at him. “You’re not going to go easy on me now that you know who I am, are you?” she says, and the combat master throws back his head and laughs, returning her grin when he recovers.

“You wish,” he says, ruffling her hair as he used to when he still thought she was her brother, “Now that I know what you can really do, be prepared to work twice as hard.”

“The same goes for you, Prince Reflet,” the sorceress says with a smile, and Reflet returns it with one of his own. “Master Kemp and I were very impressed with the two of you today.”

“The kingdom will be in good hands when you ascend the throne,” He adds, and he and Etel leave the royal infirmary without further ado.

The twins blink then turn to each other and their lips quirk up into half-smiles. They are thirteen and still too young to think of such matters, but they have now gained the unwavering respect and support of two prominent castle figures, not to mention the soldiers and general who had watched their duel from the sidelines.

They are silent during their walk back to their rooms. As children, they used to share one space and one massive bed, considering they were always together anyway. As they grew up they grew out of that and moved into separate rooms, though their private chambers were adjacent to each other and were connected by a small sitting room in between.

They sit there now, before retiring to their own rooms for a few hours before dinner; Robin toys with a sword-shaped letter opener by flipping it and catching it by the hilt, while Reflet plays with a cube-shaped puzzle. They’re both a little troubled by the combat master’s words, though they’re aware that he meant well.

“Have you ever wanted to be ruler of Plegia?” Robin asks, halting in her catching of the letter opener.

Reflet doesn’t look up from his cube when he responds.

“Not particularly,” he says without much hesitation, “But I mean…it’s what we’re raised for, aren’t we? To be heirs to the throne.”

“And vessels of Grima,” his sister supplements pointedly, and Reflet stops twisting the puzzle to look at her.

“Right,” he says after a long pause. “Grima. On the plus side, we’ll be ruling together. So if the both of us don’t really know what we’re doing, we can at least help each other pretend, right?”

Robin laughs at that.

“That’s true,” she says, “I guess we’ll just…cross that bridge when we come to it.”

Her brother gives her kind of a sheepish sort of smile and she tilts her head to the side and gives a half-hearted shrug.

The two of them stand and walk in opposite directions to their respective rooms.

“I’ll see you at dinner,” Reflet says before he enters, “I recommend the pale green dress this time; the sleeves will hide the bandages. Oh, and gloves. You’ll need gloves for your knuckles.”

“Make sure you comb your hair,” Robin points out, “Your thunder spells didn’t do either of us any kindness. And _don’t_ wear the same suit, Mother will know even if Father won’t.”

Reflet chuckles and Robin smiles before the two of them disappear into their rooms, the doors behind them closing with a soft _click_ to shut out the prospect of their dark but so-called “great destiny”, for now.


End file.
